


Of Bubbles And Mainly Amour-propre

by ufp13



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uhm... *points at title* PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Bubbles And Mainly Amour-propre

**Author's Note:**

> Written for meryl_edan.  
> The OFC isn't entirely OFC, but I think I kept her vague enough to label her that. Those who know me will figure it out nonetheless, I'm sure.

Sighing contentedly, she slipped deeper into the water, further under the mountains of bubbles.

The day had been long, exhausting, and the warmth of the hot bath was a welcome relief. 

No matter how much she relished Rusty’s presence in her apartment, his company, she was happy he was on a sleep-over tonight, giving her the freedom to for once do as she pleased without having to worry about being seen or heard, about taking too long in the bathroom.

She had always liked her baths long and leisurely. A fact that had been the source of much teasing from her family, her husband and her children. Now, Rusty had picked up on it, rolled his eyes whenever she took longer than he thought was necessary to take a bath. However, her response always was a smile and a shrug. Just like expensive underwear – stuff that felt and looked good at the same time – bathing was one of her few guilty pleasures that helped her get through the day, the week and the year.

As her muscles relaxed so did her mind, wandering back to the thoughts that the case had had a hard time overruling during the day. This had never happened to her before, especially not at a crime scene, but apparently, there was a first time for everything.

She had been distracted, very distracted – so distracted in fact that Provenza had had to say her name at least twice before she had noticed him. Luckily for her, he had seemed to buy her excuse that she had been thinking. It hadn’t even been that much of a lie. Her thoughts just hadn’t been circling around the bloody crime scene, the slaughtered girls, but rather around the woman having studied the brutal sight as if it had been a piece of fine art.

As far as Sharon was concerned, the woman could be described as a piece of art herself; a sculpture you couldn’t help but reach out to touch before pulling your hand back in the last moment out of fear of either damaging the art or getting somehow burned by it.

Sharon guessed the woman’s age maybe a few years younger than her own. Her reddish-blond hair had been up in a slightly messy ponytail, her body hidden under a baggy jumpsuit. Despite its lack of flattery, the suit couldn’t conceal the curves and long legs of its wearer.

Always having been appreciative of beauty no matter the gender, it had been a long time since Sharon had found herself drawn toward a gorgeous woman like this. Resistance had seemed futile as her eyes had returned to the unknown woman time and again.

Eventually, she had become frustrated and annoyed with herself at her improper, unprofessional behaviour, had mentally delivered a kick to her own butt and forced herself to turn her back to the source of her fascination. People had been killed. Innocent, young people who deserved not only justice but her complete attention as it was her job – the job of her team – to bring closure to the families.

Now, however, with her pantsuit replaced by scented bubbles, she could allow her mind to drift again – her hands following the example, slowly trailing up and down her sides from her breasts to her hips.

In her mind, she was back at the crime scene, only the scene was blurry and all the business, all the people had vanished. It was only her and the mysterious strawberry blonde.

Like in slow-motion, the woman turned around, her deep blue eyes fixed on Sharon’s face, answering her stare with one of her own. The gaze sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Under any other circumstances, she might have blushed. This way, though, she only cocked her head and smiled slightly. In response, the woman raised an eyebrow. Clearly not a question but an invitation – one Sharon couldn’t resist. Her legs steadier than she had expected them to be, she bridged part of the short distance with a few steps, coming to stand just three feet in front of the blonde. Then she waited tensely for another sign, the seconds feeling like hours to her until the other woman mirrored her actions, took two steps towards her, effectively invading her personal space. Although she hadn’t been touched at all, Sharon felt as if she was physically forced to step back. While not a feeling of intimidation, it still was one she couldn’t withstand. One step followed by another one and one more until she suddenly hit a wall. At her expression of surprise, a smirk appeared on the blonde’s face. Apparently, this was exactly what she had been aiming for. Without any hesitation, she closed the remaining distance Sharon had maintained so far, the tips of her breasts brushing against Sharon’s.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been thinking about ever since you got here?” she spoke softly against Sharon’s ear before kissing her on the lips. No bruising, no slobbering, no awkwardness, but confidence, gentle nibbling, tender sucking. As the kiss deepened, Sharon had to admit to herself that she hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time. She parted her lips willingly, hummed as the invitation was accepted immediately.

The kiss capturing all of her attention, she didn’t realize part of her clothes had fallen victim to the cunning ploy of the blue-eyed blonde until her trousers pooled around her feet and two hands cupped her flesh through the lacy underwear – one stroking her wetness, the other pinching a nipple between two fingers… when had the buttons of her blouse been undone? Before she could ponder the question in earnest, though, her thoughts mashed, became fuzzy as coherency left her, waved goodbye and rode off into the sunset on the soft lips that had left hers and now drew a damp path along her jaw, down her neck and beyond to the edge of her bra.

While one hand bared her breasts to the air and the playful mouth of the other woman, the other hand slipped into her panties, two fingers parting her labia, caressing her, teasing her. Her senses on overload, she couldn’t suppress a loud moan.

Normally not a passive lover, all she could do was hold on to the wall, cling to her lover so as to not tumble. As much as she would have loved to reciprocate the touch, the caresses, to explore the curvy body the way her own one got mapped, she didn’t trust her legs to hold her upright right now. Despite being a bit inconvenient, it was a heady feeling, one she hadn’t experienced in too long a time – obviously, for she couldn’t remember ever having been effected with such an intensity.

Lips closed around one of her nipples, sucking lightly, while the aforementioned fingers went even further, entered her welcoming body.

Contrary to Sharon, whose every nerve ending was longing for more, more attention, more stimulation, more heat, more cold air, more contact, just more, her partner obviously didn’t feel the urge to hurry, setting a lazy rhythm with her mouth as well as her fingers – kissing, suckling at her skin languidly, stroking her slowly. It was maddening.

Every one of Sharon’s attempts – verbal or physical – to encourage her to pick up her pace failed, though, at times only resulted in the motions slowing even further. With all her senses overwrought, she eventually was reduced to begging. Usually not her style, but who had a thought to spare to be worried about dignity or decorum under such circumstances?

Fortunately for her, it was even worth it, had the desired effect.

“Since you ask so nicely,” the woman teased before increasing her ministrations, adding a third finger, moving them faster in and out of Sharon’s wetness. The thumb rubbing her clitoris, teeth clasping a nipple none too gently on top of that sent her over the edge.

As the release washed over her, Sharon threw her head back, moaned loudly, relishing each orgasmic wave that rocked her body without care for their surroundings.

“Want the spinster next-door to give you that disapproving look of hers that always makes you feel like you’re thirteen again and got caught almost kissing the bad boy?” the blonde whispered into her ear.

“Hm… Huh?” Sharon clearly had a problem following her.

“Your neighbour,” the other woman started to outline her train of thought again, slowly, so Sharon could follow.

She nodded.

“Knowing what you’re…”

She shook her head.

“Then I suggest you be a bit quieter as she tends to hear everything…”

As fast as her mouth closed, trapping another moan inside, her eyes flew open in shock. The seductive voice fading in her mind, she assessed the situation: her legs were spread, one hand rested at the apex of her legs, three fingers still buried inside herself, the other hand rested on her chest, the water temperature was bordering on too cold for comfort. It was very clearly about time she got out of the bath.

As she towelled herself off, the material rubbing over her tender breasts made her hum. However, watching the water out of the tub, a feeling of melancholy swept over her. The best sexual experience she had in years and it had to be a dream. But who knew, maybe it was a sign?

Shaking her head at herself, she wrapped the towel around her body and left the bathroom, heading toward her bedroom. If dreams turned out to surpass reality, she might as well make use of her lively imagination, an empty apartment and the content of the drawer of her nightstand.

 

= End =


End file.
